The Oldest Soul (Death The Kid X Reader)
by Silver Forests
Summary: Partner to Lord Death, the Death Scythe is the perfect tool to any reaper. But one has always stood among the rest. Deaths proud double bladed scythe, wise as she is. But like her past lives, the time has come for her to be reborn into a new body, so that she may continue to serve her Lord. The question is, how long will it take until she remembers him once again?
1. Prologue: Rebirth

"You're time has come again, hasn't it, Deathscythe?" A large, and intimidating reaper asks his weapon. They stand in the Death Room, a recent addition to the now 784 year old Death Weapon Meister Academy. A midnight sky is glowing above them, grey clouds rarely coming to block their light. They both feel chilled, knowing that a life is soon to end. Her life.

"I'm afraid it has, my Lord." she replies, her hand brushing against the aged and wrinkled skin of her face, gray hairs falling against her fingertips.

He hums in agreement, his low and threatening voice tickling his throat. "I though so, I can smell the death on you. And you plan to leave once more? To this unknown location that still eludes my sight?"

"If it means will shall meet again, my Lord, then yes."

"Why do you continue to avoid your fate Death Scythe? There is nothing to fear on the other side."

"It is not that I fear the after life, my Lord, it is that I am simply not ready to become part of it. Our time together is still not at it's end."

"But when Deathscythe, when will I finally be able to bring you peace?"

"Soon my Lord. Just once more. One more life time together, and I will finally allow you to reap my soul. As old as it is, I'm sure your hands thirst to hold it."

"Indeed. But only to bring you the end you have prolonged for such time."

"I will reach my end when I see fit." She snaps, recognising the conversation they are sharing. "It is my soul, and only I get to choose where it ends."

The Reaper nods his skull clad head. "Such a large soul you carry within you, Deathscythe. Not a size I have ever witnessed in a human's body before. So much wisdom resonates from it, so many memories and experiences, only to be locked away. All so another new body can bloom by its own accord?"

"You know why that must be. If my soul were to travel to its new host with all of its knowledge unlocked, the results would be...frightening, to say the least."

"I could imagine. A human infant with that kind of mind would be a shocking sight. But when do you predict your return? It took three decades last you passed."

"I shall try to be hasty, my lord, but I make no promises. It is up to my new host to decide where I go. Every one of them is an adventure. New families, new friends, new lives. I can't tell you the amount of memories I have relived, all in a different body."

"A soul unreaped is a soul free to start anew. This fact you have taken to your advantage, what? Six times now?"

"Eight."

"My, my. How time has flown."

*Cough**Cough* The Deathscythe barks harshly has her immune system begins to fail her. "I-I must…"

"Deathscythe?"

She takes a deep breath, continuing to hold on the the last inches of life she has within her. "I must be off, my Lord, or I fear that my soul will be in your grasp sooner than had I hoped."

"I could end this, you know. Keep you here forcefully until your body gives in. Until your soul leaves it once more."

"Out of all the centuries I have served you, my Lord, I know you to not be that cruel. You will let me leave, and you will await for my return."

"That...that I shall, Deathscythe."

She walks towards the grieving reaper, knowing that he is loosing his closet weapon and companion once more. She places a withered hand on the cold, white mask, looking deep into its soulless eyes. "Be patient, my Lord, and I promise I will find you again. Eventually. But until then, I need you to make me a promise."

"And what would that be, Deathscythe?"

"Don't be alone. Please. For whenever I leave to begin anew, I find you in solitude. Deserted and reclused. Please my Lord, find a companion like yourself. Someone to keep you company until I return."

"And who would you suggest?"

"Like I said. Find someone like you. Someone who is familiar with your life and experiences."

"I fear that to be limited to myself alone."

The Deathscythe laughs, amused by the idea in her mind. "Then maybe it's time to create you. To have the mantle begin to be carried, as I am now."

"Are you suggesting…"

"I am. Who knows, it may be good for you. Having a child to raise for yourself."

"I would imagine that I wouldn't be quite good at it." The Reaper scoffs.

"At your age? Please. You'll be a pro." she smiles, caressing the skulled mask with her thumb. "Simply listen. I'm sure he'll be manageable."

"And what would I call him?"

The Deathscythe ponders the question. "Well, he will be you after all. Call him Death. Your kid Death."

"As you suggest, Deathscythe."

"Now, I must be off." the elderly woman steps away from the Reaper, making her course towards the one of many places the Reaper will not be able to sense her lone soul. "I wish you luck, my Lord, you will need it. Until our next meeting." she concludes, waving a hand in departure.

"Until then...my dear Deathscythe."

She coughs and coughs, air escaping her withered lungs for the last time. Her pale eyes look to a bare night sky, knowing her Lord's own eyes will not be able to view her.

* * *

'Why is death always such a cruel process?" she asks herself. 'Always so cold, so empty. And so damn boring.'

'I wonder who I will find this time? A wanderer? A philosopher? Hopefully not another damn Italian, god how they talk. I remember learning those words as I grew, using them over and over again in childish joy...childhood. That I have to look forward to. Such innocence I get to experience. Such sweet naivety.'

She feels her heart beat began to slow further, barely making a sound within her ribcage.

'Maybe this time, things will be different. Maybe I will be able to live a life worth while. I have one more chance, so I'll make sure of it. I promise Lord Death, I will return to you a strong and noble young woman. One, once again, worthy of the title 'Deathscythe.''

She takes one last shallow breath, before feeling her large soul rise from her now lifeless body.

'Now, to find my host. Infants are so easy to take over, empty minds with little life. Much easier than adults. Here we go…' The large, (f/c) soul travels across the vast and empty plains, searching for a new body to inhabit.

* * *

A young, (h/c) woman approaches a grey brick building, a mess of coddled blankets in arm.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." she weeps, laying the bundle down gently, onto the cold, concrete porch. "They'll love you, they'll take care of you. I promise darling. It's for your own safety."

Small, (e/c) infant eyes gleam back at the grieving woman, full of wonder and curiosity, unaware of the situation it was being put in. It giggles happily, recognizing the (h/c) hair cascading down the woman's forehead. She reaches out for the infant's hand, holding it in her own for the last time, only for the baby's hand to glow, and shape itself into a sharp blade. The woman gasps in shock, pulling away a cut hand. "No! No more! I-I can't!" she sobs, as she has come to fear what her child truly is, an instrument of death.

"They'll know what to do. I'm sure they will." She leans down once more, placing a now blood stained piece of baby upon the infant's single piece of warmth against the harsh nights cold. "I'm sorry." she weeps once more, before abandoning the child on the stairwells top.

The infant wails, seeing the only person it has come to know leave their presence. The crying continues for an hour, the weeps of the child echoing through the cobblestone streets, not to be heard over the slumber of its residents. All except one.

A large red door opens from the grey building entrance, a sweater clad man looking out into the darkness. Only to look down at the source of the noise he was thought to have heard.

"What do we have here?" The elderly man asks himself, seeing the tear stained cheeks of the lonely child, as it continues to cry harshly. He picks up the child into his warm arms, caressing the cold, (s/c) cheeks. "You poor thing. Left all alone here. Do not fear little one. We'll care for you. We'll love you no matter what." he cooes, calming the child. He looks down once more, seeing a small piece of parchment, it's corners stained a dark crimson.

Picking it up as well, he reads it aloud. "(y/n). Is that you, little one?" he smiles, earning a small giggle from the baby in his arms. "Well (y/n), this is your home now. And I promise, we'll make sure you'll grow to the healthy young woman I know you'll be." he smiles, turning back and into the same children's home, excited to tell the other children in morning of their newest addition. (y/n).

 **A/N: So? Whatchya think? ;) A good start? Please comment to tell me what you think! -Silver**


	2. Regrowth

"Do you know what it's like to be feared? Not just to be shunned or sneered. But to be actually _hated._ To walk through the streets and have passers by shift away belated. To have them look at you as if you were a wanted killer. To have children cry at the sight of your face, because your presence was doomed to be a chiller. And what if, they feared you, not because of what you look like. Not because of what you've done. But purely because, you _are you._ I've come to know, it wouldn't be much fun."

"Thank you, (y/n). That was lovely." Papa Nolen claps, as his bushy grey mustache raises with his large smile. The (h/c) haired girl is praised among her fellow peers, whistles and soft claps heard throughout the room. Peers she knows simply, as her family.

"Way to go (y/n)! You tell 'em." One of the younger children cheers, waving a slim bladed arm through the air, amongst many other death weapon youth.

"Thanks everyone." she smiles, happy with her recent poetry assignment, still held in her single right arm.

Papa Nolen walks to the front of the living room, candles creating a familiar glare against his balding head, causing some of the youth to giggle as (y/n) takes her seat with the other children on the carpeted floor.

"You see everyone. Despite whatever the world will see, whatever they say to you, remember that you are not alone. Here, you are surrounded by fellow troubled death weapons, all knowing the struggles of controlling their inner forms. Just look at (y/n) here! I remember the very day I first found her on our doorstep. Such a wee little thing, but still, held such a beautiful bladed arm!" he compliments, motioning to (y/n)'s single bladed left limb, having been in the same shape and form for as long as she could remember.

"I gave you this assignment so you would all see that though the world may be cruel to you, there is always family out there. People who will love you for all your flaws."

"Papa Nolen! Papa Nolen!" a young girl calls out, standing on two small crutches with the lacking use of her weapon handle legs.

"Yes, Talia dear? Would you like to add something?"

"B-because we are weapons, and because me and Cal are of almost of age, does that mean that Lord Death will have us at his school now?" the excited girl asks.

Papa Nolen looks at her with sympathetic eyes, knowing all too well of the wish she shares with the rest of her abandoned brothers and sisters.

"Yeah, she's right!" Cal calls from the other side of the room, his bladed hands hiding behind his back. "We're both turning 12 soon, so that means we can train to be proper weapon partners!"

"Indeed it does, little ones." Papa Nolen sighs. "But I'm afraid it just isn't that simple. Yes, our home and funds come from the gracious Lord Death himself, but that is only so he knows that you are being properly cared for with your...special circumstances." he puts lightly, taking a look at a young toddlers hammer clad arms. "I would hope though, that until you are able to properly control your weapon forms, that you will refrain from enrolling into the DWMA. I know that you are excited, any avid weapon would be, but without proper experience switching between body and blade, it is best that you remain here, at the Demon Weapon Home."

The two tweens frown slightly, disappointed at their guardians answer. Noticing this, (y/n) speaks up quickly, knowing the familiar struggle with controlling her own limb. "Hey, chin up guys! Who needs that damn academy anyways? We're all bad asses on on own! No meister required!"

"Language, (y/n)." Papa Nolen scolds.

(y/n) rolls her eyes on instinct, slouching on her right arm and left blade. "Sorry, Papa."

"Anyways. (y/n) is correct. We are all capable individuals. Gaining entrance to the DWMA is not everything." Stretching his aged back with a load groan, Papa Nolen closes lessons for the evening. "Thank you all for presenting your poems on time, next week's assignment will be on individuality! I want you all to observe your fellow weapons and take note of their specifics forms. Hopefully you'll learn a thing or two on your own form! Now, it's gotten late, off to bed with you all. Tomorrow morning is the DWMA's start to their yearly student competition! We'll all be able to observe the skilled students and their fighting styles in person, giving you a great opportunity to gain some experience as weapons, as well as hints on how to properly use your forms. You'll need all of the sleep you can get. Rest well."

"Rest well Papa." all the children say in a monotone usion, used to the daily pattern they have come to learn from their home/school.

Crowding out of the living room and up to the resident dorm bedroom, (y/n) is joined by her long time bunk buddy, Lu. "You gonna go tomorrow, (y/n)?"

"Huh? Oh, maybe." She shrugs off, already predicting the outcome of the yearly student competition. "We all know the program, Lu. It's always the same three pairs at the end, and the battle can go on for hours. I'd rather just go to Deathbucks for some tea, ya'know?"

The raven haired girl shakes her head in disbelief. "You're full of it (y/n). We all know that of all people, you're the earliest riser for the competition. That whole thing about 'no meister required'? Bull. You're obsessed with that school!"

"I'm not obsessed! Just...intrigued. I mean, who wouldn't want to fight monsters and collect souls? The reaper can't do it all on his own!"

"Is (y/n) going on about the academy again?" a young boy by the name of Coon, teases form across the dorm room.

"Shut your trap, Coon!" Lu yells back, annoyed from the redheads constant teasing.

"Yeah, go cover your face with more eyeliner from Willows make up box, raCOON eyes!" (y/n) laughs, earning snickers from the other weapons across the bedroom.

"Ah come on that was one time! I was six!" Coon grumbles, missing the days everyone just call him 'Max.'

(y/n) yawns tiredly, falling backwards onto her bottom bunk with a (f/c) comforter. "You going to hit the hay, (y/n)?" Lu asks as she climbs the metal ladder to her top bunk above (y/n).

"Nah, I'll stay up a bit longer. Not that tired anyways."

"Your yawn says other wise...you're not having those dreams again, are you? The one's with the skull man?"

"So what if I am? It's not like I'm scared or anything. I told you, they're comfy dreams. Like laying on a warm hammock kind of comfy."

"With the way you describe that guy? I find it hard to believe. A dark black cloak and white skull face doesn't sound warm and comfy to me (y/n). What if he's a Kishin!? He could be haunting your dreams and tricking you into liking him so he can eat your soul!"

"Ha, ha. If you knew what they were like, Lu, you'd understand. And he's not a Kishin! He's...jolly."

"Jolly!? Like santa clause jolly? You really are full of it tonight."

"I told you, you wouldn't understand."

"Whatever. But if it is a Kishin, Lord Death will get 'em. That or his little minions." Lu mocks with wiggling fingers as she hangs off the top bunk, knowing the admiration (y/n) holds for the weapons and meisters.

"They're not minions, they're students!" the familiar voice of Talia calls across the room, her long blonde hair a mess against her pillow.

"Thank you Tal!" (y/n) calls back.

"Welcome! Night Cal." she whispers to her closely aged friend on his bottom bunk.

"Night Tal." he whispers back.

"Those two are so getting married some day." Lu giggles, loving to observe the close friends.

"Dibs on maid of honor!" (y/n) snickers back.

"No fair! I get to walk her down the aisle then."

"Deal." (y/n) smiles, before settling herself onto her pillow, for what she already knew, would be a sleepless night.

 **Readers POV**

 _It's quiet, save the clatter of wind chimes in a far away apartment complex. The sky is a dark, menacing purple, black clouds blocking out the smiling moon I have always admired. And the Aura? Distressing._

" _Deathscythe? Are you ready? I sense the Kishin had approached the city walls." A skull clad man approaches me from behind, his voice deep and intimidating, yet also, comforting._

" _Yes, my lord. On your word."_

" _I need you to have a look out. Find which angle we should properly approach. Do you have any officer links close to the Kishin's location?"_

" _I might. Please give me a moment."_

" _Of course."_

 _I stand from my crouching position by the rooftop's edge, taking a cross legged seat in the flat areas centre. Placing my hands on my knees, I close my eyes in concentration, my soul reaching out for that of another. My vision searches throughout the city, going from link to link until it reaches the city limits. I observe the large wall before me, the only barrier between the city and the Kishin. I take observation of a lone officer standing on the walls top, looking down below to the world outside. 'Him'. My soul links with his own, giving a perfect field of vision to the ground below. I knew I chose to link my soul with his for a reason, as his patrols are often on the walls upper levels. All it took was one handshake, and a sliver of my soul was able to sink into his own, eternally linking our field of vision, like so many others I have chosen._

 _Opening my eyes in order to communicate with my lord, he sees my once (e/c) change to the familiar midnight black, indicating that I am still linked with my chosen soul. "Anything, Deathscythe?"_

" _Yes, my lord. East side, upper level is clear, save for one patrolling officer. He has a visual on the Kishin. I suspect he will raise the alarm with due haste to warn his comrades. As for us, I think it would be wise to attack from the lower levels where the Kishin will suspect to find us."_

" _And why is that? Would the element of surprise not be a better tactic?"_

" _Ultimately not. It observes my link with curious eyes. I would think attacking from above would result in it attacking the other soldiers as well."_

" _So it would be best for it to keep its attention on us. Very well Deathscythe. Good work, but it is now time for you to transform."_

" _Very well, my lord." I take a deep breathe as I let my link with the observing officer fade, his field of vision distorting back to my view of the now empty rooftop. "My lord?" I call out curiously, wondering where my meister had disappeared too so quickly._

" _Over here Deathscythe. Let's be hasty, we are in a hurry, are we not?" he snickers from a smokestack one building away._

' _Childish little reaper. 233 years old and still teasing me?'_

" _Understood, my lord."_ _I grumble, holding in my distaste for his joking tone in such a crucial time. I run from my place on the rooftop and take one swift leap in the air, my long black cloak flowing behind me as I relax my muscles, and feel myself begin to transform._

 _It's always such a freeing feeling. My body has a chill sent through my spine, as my brain becomes cloudy and my form feeling almost weightless. before my vision comes back to me. I feel the tight grip of my lords hands on my weapons handle. My reflection shines in one of my blades, as my lord wields my doubled bladed scythe form with precision and grace. A hold I always crave when I am forced to fight solo._

" _Onward, my lord. Asura awaits to be slayed."_

"(Y/N)! Get up already! We're already late because of you!" a loud, and high pitched voice screams sraight into my ear.

"GAAAH! What the hell, Tal!?" I yell back, pressing my sinlge hand against my now ringing here.

"It's 12:30 monkey brains! The DWMA fighters competion is starting in 30 minutes, now come on!" she whines, running out of the dorm room, already dressed in a pair of pink pants and t-shirt.

"12:30!? Why'd you let me sleep in you little jiblits!?" I yell loudly, so the entire house could hear. I jump out of bed quickly, scraping my bladed arm across the wooden floor to propel me to my dresser and the biunk beds end. I open it frantickly as I search through my clothes, now flying across the room in piles. " _What to wear, what to wear?"_ I mumble to myself hasitly.

"Try some PJ's you gullible nerd!" I hear the familiar voice of Coon call from the other side of the dorm.

"What the hell are you talking about, you black eyes rodent!?" I yell back with annoyance.

"It's 5:00 AM dumbass!" he snickers, as I hear the rest of the room burst into a fit of laughter as i only now notice the rest of the weapon clan still laying in their beds.

"Wa-TALIA! You little traitor! I'll kill ya!" I yell to the ceiling, now chacing the long haired girl througout the bedroom angrily.

"He made me do it! He made me do it!" she laughs with exasperated breath, trying to rotate beyween talking, giggling as well as panting from my triless chase. We jump from bed to bed, tackling our other sibling in the process. "Papa Nolen! (y/n)'s trying to slice me!" she screams out, regretting her choice in prank.

"You got that right ya little trickster!" I laugh evilly, waving my right bladed arm through the air, slicing back and forth childishly. "Fear me! For I am the most powerful scythe in the world!" I cackle, making the other children laugh and mock cheer me on.

Just as we reach the front doorway, I grab a stong hold of the girl with my left arm. Holding my blade to her throat, just far enough to know I wouldn't accedentliy cut her. The ceder door creaks open slowly, revelaing a yawning old man in nothing but a pair of blue, striped shorts. Rubbing is closed, tired eyes, Papa Nolen takes one peek at Talia and me, scruffing up his bushy mustache on intinct.

"Talia, (y/n)." he says sternly.

"Yes Papa?" we most smile ironicly, considering our current position.

"No murder before 7:00, we've talked about this."

"Yes Papa!" we both smile again, before I drop Talia to the ground with a loud thud and place my glimmering blade in front of her face.

"Remember Tal, if you want to get into that academy, you're gonna have to beat your big sis first!" I snicker, as I see her unimpressed reflection on my blade.

"Jerk." she mumbles in mock annoyance, before trotting her way back to her bed in defeat.

"Go back to bed Papa, no more ruffhousing, I promise." I wink at him, feeling tuckered out myself. He simply grunts in respoce, not in the mold to scold anymore at such an hour. "As for the rest of you-" I turn, eyeing my siblings menacingly, "-wake me up again on competion day, and I'll send skull man after ya." I tease, knowing full well the fear they all have for my nighttime dream companion.

"Yes ma'am!" they all reply, before forcing themsleves back into bed and squeezing their eyes shut.

"Uh huh. That's what I thought."

' _Now what the hell is an Asura?'_


End file.
